Running Out of Time
by Generalpandathefourth
Summary: Soulmate au. Everyone has a timer on their wrist, Skye has been dreaming of the day hers would beep
Sky would waste minutes watching the numbers on her wrist count down. She'd lose herself in imagining the moment it ran out, in the person who's timer would tick out at the same second. She'd spend afternoons speculating with the other kids at the orphanage. Lose nights playing out different scenarios in her head. One's like in cheesy movies, one's of fairy tales, one's to cause worry. She worried about her person all the time, and they were always in the shadows of her mind. There were horror stories of timers that stopped, never to to change, never to beep. Skye worried that it would happen to her too, that her person would leave her just as everyone did.

So when a hood was placed over her head and knocked unconscious with only one hour, three minutes and twenty-nine seconds on her timer, she was furious. Furious that the one time she got caught, truly caught, it was the moment she'd been waiting for all her life. The moment that kept her going every time she was brought back to Saint Agnes, tossed aside by yet another foster family. Her timer was going to go off and she was going to miss her moment, her person, because S.H.I.E.L.D. had found her and no doubtingly would be locking her up -or whatever it was that they did with people.

Skye wasn't sure how much time had passed. She hoped it wasn't too much, hoped that on some miracle she could get out in time to meet her person. But that was a dead dream when she woke sitting in a cool metal chair accompanied by a steel table, and a small metal box.

Her timer!

Forty minutes, three seconds.

Skye scrabbled out of her chair, surprisingly she wasn't cuffed, and began walking the walls to find a way out. Thirty nine minutes, fifty six seconds. There were no signs of a doorway, no seals. Nothing. Nothing but the table, chair, and a camera in the far corner. It was pristine.

Thirty eight minutes, twelve seconds. A heavy lock sounds and suddenly there's a door opening. Skye takes stronger stance, ready for whatever was to come.

"I'm Agent Coulson, and this is Agent Ward. We have a few questions for you, Skye."

Skye tried not to stare at her timer. Tried to be subtle. She didn't want them knowing that her time was almost up, it'd make her seem weak and vulnerable. But she stole glances, she checked and bit her lip to remind herself she couldn't bounce her leg with nerves. Skye watched the time tick down with bated breath, a rock in her gut.

Coulson and Ward asked their questions, got some answers, and so did she. And Skye was going to help them. Be something of an asset. But first their doctor was going to clean the cut on forehead and check for any signs of a concussion, apparently they hit her pretty hard before knocking her out with some sort of drug.

One minute, twenty seven seconds.

Skye laid her head on the table and smoothed out her hands on the cool steel. She closed her eyes and pictured her person.

One minute, twenty seconds.

She had many scenarios to how they'd meet. In the coffee shop she regularly parked her van, at the beach and their dog would run up to her with a wagging tail, bump on the street, maybe at a club. But her favourite one, the one she imagined most often, was at the park. She would be on one of her regular walks, sometimes it was sunny and others raining, and she'd stop on instinct. She would stop and turn and be face to face with her soulmate. Both of their timers would go of but Skye wouldn't glance at her wrist, she'd already known, she'd feel it.

Seventeen seconds.

But Skye wasn't in the park. She wasn't even on ground. And her person, her soulmate, will be left with zeros and no beep.

Ten seconds.

She swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge the lump in her throat.

Eight seconds.

She squeezed her eyes tighter to convince the tears to stay behind her eyelids.

Five seconds.

A deep breath.

Three seconds.

"I'm sorry." Skye whispered under her breath. She willed her apology to find it's way to the right person.

Two seconds.

Her heart sank. She didn't know she could feel so guilty, so lost and sorrowful.

"Sorry for-" someone, a British woman Skye assumed by the voice, began but was cut off by beeping.

Skye's timer.

"Oh my." The woman gasped in surprise and disbelief.

Skye's head shot up then. It wasn't just one timer. No, there were two very distinct beeps going off in unison. She quickly found the woman, still standing in the doorway, holding a first-aid kit in both of her hands.

The Brit was beautiful, there was no denying that fact. Light brown hair with eyes to match, perfect white teeth hidden behind full pink lips, slinger build and not at all the height Skye had imagined. An obvious nerd too. She wasn't what Skye had pictured, but she did bring the imagined rush of emotions.

A few moments passed as they took it all in, unabashedly staring at one another.

"Hi." Skye said hesitantly, breaking the bubble.

The doctor smiled and took a step forward. Skye thought it was the most adorable thing she'd ever witnessed. "Hello."

"I'm Skye." She straighten in her seat. She felt so light, like her chest was a balloon that was going to float away at any moment.

"Jemma, it's a pleasure to meet you, Skye." Jemma inched closer with slow sure steps. The door closed, locking them in together, though neither truly noticed or cared.

Skye liked her name on Jemma's lips, in her accent, her voice. She liked her name too, Jemma. Jemma. She smiled, grinned like a child meeting their favourite superhero. "The pleasure is all mine."


End file.
